"That's what I hope," nodded Biggs. "Let's find out. Come down to my growth chamber and we'll see."
We needed no second invitation. In minus zero seconds the three of us were galloping down the ramp to the room wherein Lancelot Biggs had installed his hydroponic tank. We waited breathlessly as he fumbled with the lock ... then gasped and choked as the door opened and a steamy mist gushed out to smack us in the pans with an almost ponderable force. Then regardless of the heat the three of us were crowding into the narrow cubicle and—
A welter of tropic growths tumbled out of the door.
"Great snakes!" I gasped.
"Good goddlemitey!" croaked Cap Hanson.
"Oh, my gracious!" bleated Biggs.
For we had stepped not into the metal chamber of a space-craft bunkroom—but into what seemed the foetid fen of some steamy swampland jungle!